In Diverse Dreams
by Eavis
Summary: A couple weeks after a run-in with Amora the Enchantress, Clint still isn't sleeping well. Fortunately they have a code for this kind of thing. (spoiler: the code is a giant cuddle pile) (Technically part of my series A Miraculous World, but can stand alone.)


All you need to know about the series is that Loki was de-aged as punishment and then re-aged himself so he could help the Avengers, and that the whole team knows Clint is Deaf.

Italics = sign language  
Bold italics = Amora in Clint's dream

* * *

_**You are the sole human among them…weak, helpless…what purpose do you serve but to hold them back, to endanger them further?**_The Enchantress' smile is cold as one beautiful finger caresses Clint's face in a mockery of affection. **_The Avengers' little Hawke…I fear your wings are already pinioned, my feathered one…you remember, do you not, how easy it was for me to turn you against your fellows...of course, my colleague had already sifted your mind once, and they do say like calls to like…he is only manipulating you, of course you realise…he has not even the capacity to love, not even his brother and especially not a crippled Hawk._**

Clint woke, shaking all over. Their encounter with Amora had been weeks ago, but even though Loki had broken her hold over his mind before he could hurt anyone, he still woke to her voice in his head more nights than not.

He flicked on the light by his bed and went to splash some water on his face, avoiding catching his own bloodshot eyes in the mirror. He stood with his hands clenching either side of the sink, head bowed. There was something he could do, something he was fairly certain would help more than the drugs that only kept him trapped in the Enchantress' clutches. But it was so – so _pitiful_, and Steve probably hadn't even meant it when he suggested – okay, no, this was Steve, of course he meant it, but.

Clint made the mistake of glancing up. He hadn't had a solid night's sleep in two weeks and it showed.

His lips pressed together, turning pale from the pressure. "Okay," he muttered, and pushed away from the sink. "JARVIS, tell Steve –" his lips twisted, "Violet Alert."

His bedside lamp flicked off and then back on; JARVIS letting him know he'd done as requested. Clint didn't sleep with his hearing aids in when he didn't have to.

A couple minutes later, the light flashed again – the pattern for the door this time – and Clint called, "Come in."

The door opened, and Clint blinked. He'd expected Steve – probably Natasha and maybe Coulson if he were in, but – Tony was there, dressed in Ironman pajamas, dragging Bruce and a Hulk bedspread, and besides Steve (plaid flannel pajamas, of course), Natasha (dark red silk) and Coulson (cotton), there was Loki. He was hanging behind the others and looking as though he was not quite sure if he was welcome, but _there_. Clint sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and then frowned. Thor was conspicuously absent. He caught Natasha's eye. One hand, forefinger extended, moved back and forth twice before moving to sign _lightning_, ending in a 't' – Thor's name sign.

Natasha dropped to sit at the end of Clint's bed and nodded to Loki.

Back before Loki re-aged, Clint and Natasha had taught him ASL. (Clint because he'd almost taken Loki's head off one day when he'd had his 'aids out and he wanted to make it up to him and Natasha because she liked to sign rude things about Clint to Loki during house meetings) Loki had picked it up with godlike quickness, and was close to being fluent. (This made Tony, who had been trying to learn for almost twice as long and was still barely conversational, mutter and sulk a lot.)

So when Clint looked at Loki and repeated, _Where Thor_? Loki responded, hands moving easily, though his expression was still uncertain, _big party in Asgard tonight. Odin call Thor earlier._

Tony must have gotten the gist of what Loki said, because he dumped his coverlet on the other side of Clint and signed, a little slower than Loki, _Why not invite you?_

Loki shrugged. _Thor Crown Prince. Not me. Asgard parties boring anyway._

Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes, signing something rude but undeniably accurate about Odin and the Asgardian court.

Meanwhile Steve and Bruce, ignoring the conversation they couldn't understand (Bruce knew basic medical terminology; Steve knew basic military terminology), had sorted out the pillows and blankets on the enormous bed and Steve was over in the kitchenette pouring water into mugs. "Loki, do you mind?"

The trickster snapped his fingers and steam began to curl from the cups.

"Tea for Bruce and me, warm milk for Clint, Natasha, and Phil, and hot cocoa for Tony and Loki. What are we watching?"

Tasha repeated the question in ASL, adding, _violet alert means you pick._

Clint hesitated, gave a mental shrug and said out loud, "The Last of the Mohicans." Good scenery and the guns were cool, and there wasn't any dialogue he'd want to put in his 'aids for.

He settled back against the head board, Tasha on one side and Tony on the other as JARVIS started the movie, subtitles kindly informing him that title music was playing. Half-way through the waterfall scene, he felt himself droop sideways and his eyes slide shut. Without his hearing aids, both the movie and his teammates' voices were only a faint murmur, but Natasha's steady hands guiding him head to rest on her lap and stroking through his hair were comforting and the warmth of Tony beside him and Steve across his feet and everyone else within arms reach made him feel – safe.

He slept through the rest of the movie, and when he woke up again, briefly, the lights were dimmed and everyone else was asleep too. He chuckled quietly at Bruce, huddled under the Hulk blanket, at Tony, huddled beside Loki, and at Coulson blissfully hugging Steve's arm and whispered, "J, snap a picture, would you?"

The bedside lamp flickered, and Clint, satisfied, rolled over, tucking closer to Natasha, and went back to sleep.


End file.
